2003 Year of the Wham
by Morumotto-sempai
Summary: Professor Trewlaney overcomes her phobia and sets out to explore the muggle world.(My first fanfic, please review!)
1. Agoraphobia

2003- Year of the Wham (or, 'Trewlaney's Travels')  
  
:::This is my very first fan fiction so I really need your reviews!!:::  
  
Chapter One: Agoraphobia  
  
Sybill Trewlaney awoke, yawning and stretching. The sunlight poured in through the stained glass window next to her bed. It was blue, with all four Teletubbies depicted in the center (her secret passion). She pushed back the covers of her bed (also decorated with Teletubbies) and got up, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a Weird Sisters T-shirt and white long underwear with pink bears. She added her brown anteater slippers to the ensemble and stood up, getting a head rush.  
  
The head rush may have been from standing up so fast, but most likely the abundance of incense lingering in the stuffy room (lavender, jasmine, rosemary, lemon tea, and bean-fart). All around her there were decks of tarot cards, crystal balls (*giggle*) and other fortune-telling and Divination oddities. The drapes on her window were actually cheap scarves, and the carpet was black and furry.  
  
She walked downstairs to the kitchen and was suddenly ambushed by her dozen cats. She started to choke on the fur, wheezing and grabbing the counter for support. Luckily, one of the cats (named Lavender, after one of her favourite students) knew CPR and quickly revived her.  
  
She sat down in her favourite chair and ate breakfast - emu eggs over easy with cucumbers and horseradish - and looked at her wall calendar cheerfully. June 30 - two whole months free of teaching to do whatever she pleased.  
  
After she had consumed breakfast and coughed up a few hairballs (Gross? Not considering she was just given mouth-to-mouth by a cat) she went upstairs and got dressed, putting on some bright purple robes. She put one of her crystal balls (*giggle!*) on her small table and sat before it, humming like a monk.  
  
"Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."  
  
The cloudy mist inside the ball (*giggle!* Some day I will have to grow up) swirled around and Professor Trewlaney gasped and fell backwards off her chair.  
  
"No! NO!! This can't be! Why do you deceive me my divine orb?" she shrieked, staring into it again, but the mist did not change. She flopped onto her bed, miserably.   
  
She had seen herself in the ball (stop it, yer killin me!) outside. Not outside her room, or her hallway, or the frightening glob of aromatherapy candles and kleenex that was her reality. Outside. In the open.  
  
Dun dun dunnnnn...  
  
Yes, dear reader, Professor Trewlaney has been living with agoraphobia ever since an unfortunate incident in her youth involving a garden claw, a pineapple and an elderly pharmacist with a skin condition (You may have read her story in the Reader's Digest, along with Lockhart's informative article about the effects of hair grease on the scalp). The reason she had decided to work as a teacher was that she could stay inside the walls of a familiar place while earning a living. The worst times where when she had to make the voyage to Hogwarts, or vice versa. She apparated to Kings Cross Station and had a colleague bring her into the train in a large trunk padded with Three Musketeers Bars.   
  
So now she sat numb with shock as she stared into the depths of the ball (insert your own immature comment here), she realized she would be going outside. She decided to call her beloved bosom friend, Severus Snape.  
  
"Severus? Seeeverus?" she said in her mistiest voice, stroking another one of her cats, Smibbergalibberjibberjabberwocky.   
  
"Hello?" Snape replied drowsily, "Who is this?"  
  
"It's Sybill, silly! You'd think that after thirty years if friendship you'd be able to recognize my voice!"  
  
"Good grief," Snape muttered in a very annoyed voice, "You mean 30 years of you stalking me! How did you find this number?"  
  
Snape hung up, and Professor Trewlaney set her cordless popeye phone down, sighing.  
  
"My Snapey never was a morning person," she said to Smibbergalibberjibberjabberwocky, "But he's right, I should enjoy my time outside. I've got to be brave, for Severus. I've got to overcome my fear."  
  
So, even though Snape had said nothing of the sort, Trewlaney sprang up from the bed with new hope. She skipped downstairs and knocked over a bag of cat food that was sitting in the hallway so her cats wouldn't starve.  
  
Then, the moment of truth had come. Her pale, knobby knees knocked together. She perspired so much that her skin got as clammy as a dead cod. She gripped the doorknob and opened it. Slowly...slowly...then...  
  
WHAM!  
  
The Saturday paper hit her square in the nose, knocking her backwards onto the spilled cat food.   
  
"Mmph..." she said, trying to sit up and stop the blood flow. She fell back onto the floor and lied there until Lavender called 911.  
  
*****  
  
"Now, now, Mees Trewlaney, lie back while I be putting zees bandage in your nowsse. Zat voz von 'eavy paper."  
  
"De durse said it was fibteeb bounds," Professor Trewlaney answered wearily as the doctor bandaged her nose. She had passed out on the floor and when she awoke she was lying in the local Muggle hospital while a doctor with a beard longer than Dumbledore's and olive-coloured skin checked her pulse.  
  
"Zerre vee arr," he replied, stroking the coarse, black strands of his beard, "Feeling better?"  
  
"Gurchegibishilish," she answered the experimental drugs in her IV drip finally starting to kick in. She felt very good. She was flying over a field of daises, singing the theme from 'Frasier'.   
  
"Vot voss zat?" he asked, patting her arm comfortingly.  
  
But I still don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs...  
  
"Mees?"  
  
But the professor was lost in her happy Frasier dreams, chasing after that adorable Jack Russell Terrier.  
  
*****  
  
"Eet vill be all right Mees Trewlaney, you can do it!"  
  
Professor Trewlaney groaned, siting up and coughing up another hairball (some of the doctor's beard got in her apple juice, ok? Don't judge!).  
  
"You may go, mees!" the doctor cheered, as if it made him as happy as it made her miserable, "Go, Go!"  
  
He pulled her to a standing position and shoved her out of the hospital room. She swore she saw Lockhart get wheeled her by an intern, but she wasn't sure. She stumbled towards the door to the parking lot and grabbed the handle, staggering out into the sunlight.  
  
It was...so warm. And the air was so different...so fresh. It smelled far better than the stuffiness of her own house. She relished in the sweet feeling of the outdoors, and suddenly...  
  
WHAM!  
  
~~~ Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction, like I said, so review like you've never reviewed before! Plus, keep checking back because I'll try to add a new chapter every week 9it gets better) And, of course, I claim no rights to the ideas and characters of Joanne Rowling, but I do claim the ideas and plot of this fanfic, so steal it and I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish. Oh, and the strange spellings in the hospital are the doctor's accent and Trewlaney's broken nose, if you wondered. And sorry about the immature crystal ball jokes, but I couldn't help myself :-) ~~~ 


	2. To Love a Muggle

2003 - Year of the Wham (or, 'Trewlaney's Travels')  
  
:::Yay, second chapter!!! I hope you liked (and REVIEWED!!!) the first one. If not, go back and review it, fool!:::  
  
Chapter Two: To Love a Muggle  
  
"Oh dear!" Professor Trewlaney cried, rushing across the parking lot, and forgetting her fear (how brave, *sniff*). A man had just crashed his Mercedes-Benz into a stop sign. She opened the door and he fell out at her feet.  
  
The man stood up with her help and held his left arm close to him, wincing with pain. He was balding, but the hair he had left was a mix of dark brown and grey. He wore thick square glasses and khaki pants. He was a good two inches shorter than Professor Trewlaney, and looked up uncertainly, as an old man in a tuxedo sat across the street playing the piano and singing love songs.  
  
Professor Trewlaney looked down at him, pushing her round glasses farther up the bridge of her nose and straightening her robes nervously.   
  
"You...you're hurd," she said, her voice still stuffy from the broken nose, "Led be fix dat."  
  
She pulled out her wand and tapped his arm, muttering a simple healing spell. She put her wand away and held his arm fondly.  
  
"L, is for the way you look at meee..." the man across the street crooned in his off-key voice.  
  
"Bedder?" she asked, sniffling so she could talk normally.  
  
The man nodded, not even noticing her wand because he was looking into her huge green eyes.  
  
"Much bedder, er, I mean, better," he managed to say, his right hand on hers as they held his arm (how sweet!), "I think it was the thrill of meeting such a beautiful lady," he said stupidly. He didn't seem to realize that the three fractured bones in his arm had healed in less than two minutes.  
  
Professor Trewlaney flushed a vibrant magenta and giggled like a schoolgirl, "I'm Sybill. Sybill Trewlaney," she mumbled, her pea-green eyes gazing into the balding man's brown ones.   
  
"D-douglas Sincostan, you can call me Doug," he stammered.  
  
"E, is even more than anyone that you adore and loooove..."   
  
"Do...do you need help with your vehicle?" she asked dazedly, putting her hand on hus hand on her hand on his once-broken arm, "It's been damaged quite badly."  
  
"Oh, that?" he said, not bothering to even glance at the Mercedes-Benz, "I'll call a tow truck. Meanwhile, would you...would you like to go get some coffee?"  
  
Professor Trewlaney nodded, quite flushed as the muggle man dialed a tow truck on his cell phone and gave the man on the other end the address of the hospital. He took her arm and they walked down the street towards the Starbucks at the corner. Professor Trewlaney put her head on Doug's shoulder as she pointed her wand over their heads, frying the piano and singer to a crisp as Douglas hummed, oblivious.  
  
*****  
  
Professor Trewlaney was amazed at how a simple bald (as an eagle, mind you) muggle could cure her phobia. They sat drinking their coffee blissfully and fazing into each other's eyes. They did that often.  
  
"It was amazing. I just took one look at you and  
  
WHAM,  
  
my fender was crumpled against that stop sign," Douglas was telling her of his crash as she poured her double decaf mocha late (with the chocolatey sprinkles and foam) into a nearby plant, "Your face...I was just entranced by it," he added, blinking his beady eyes from behind his glasses. Someone had turned on romantic music in the background (again).  
  
"Really? I was just so worried about you when you fell out of the car and your head hit my knee...it was unforgettable."  
  
"Unforgettable...that's what you are..." the voice from the jukebox crooned.  
  
Professor Trewlaney sighed irritably and threw her mocha late mug at the machine, "And I had this vision of me helping you up and I did and..." she paused thoughtfully, "I felt like I'd just drank a gallon of Butterbeer!"  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"Nothing," she corrected quickly, "May I...read you hand?"  
  
"Of course," he chuckled, turning his hands over so she could see them.  
  
  
  
She took his hand, and looked at it. Suddenly she gasped, dropping it and leaping from the table, "No...it can't be! It mustn't be! Oh my dear Dougieeeee!"  
  
Douglas leapt up as well, rushing over to the other side of the little round table and taking her hand in his, "What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
Trewlaney pulled away from him, one hand over her face dramatically, "It's...it's awful, Doug," she answered, collapsing back into her chair as the edge of the screen became fuzzy in the spiffy soap opera way...  
  
"Tell me, Sybill, don't hold anything back!" he pleaded, shifting into spiffy soap opera mode right along with her (good ol' Muggle Doug, always willing to cooperate for the sake of the fanfic!)  
  
"I...I can't believe it. Your hands...it tells me you're going on a trip! Why are you leaving me-e-eeee?" she sobbed, sniffling and blubbering shamelessly.  
  
"You saw all that on my hand?" Doug asked, bewildered, "I thought palm-reading was just life lines and stuff..."  
  
"I know what I saw!" she screeched, "I can't believe we've just begun our relationship and you're going to leave me!!"  
  
Doug nodded solemnly, "Ok ok, I believe you, Sybill," he said, because love makes oyu stupid (and good ol' Muggle Doug wasn't the sharpest spoon in the drawer to begin with), "I...I guess I'll have to go."  
  
She nodded miserably, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her robes (eww!).  
  
"But I want you to have something that got me through a lot of tough time when I was young," he said as he knelt next to her chair, "It's always been very important to me, and if you have it, it will be like I'm with you."  
  
He pulled out a small black box and opened it, putting something metal into her hands and curling her fingers over it. He looked into her eyes wistfully and smiled.   
  
"What...is it?" Professor Trewlaney asked, looking down at him questioningly.  
  
"It's my retainer from high school," he answered proudly, "My lucky retainer, actually. I want you to have it."  
  
She nodded and put it in her purse (it still had some drool on it from when Muggle Doug fell in love with his first crush, Patty McFatterson).  
  
Doug stood up, "I guess I'd better go," he said sadly, rising to leave, "I'll never forget you."  
  
Doug walked away, stepping out of the little square of fuzzy edges and out of sight. Trewlaney sighed and wiped the drool off her hand, staring off into the distance.  
  
~~~Author's Note: Didja like the first chapter? Didjadidjadidja? Review this chapter and I'll love you forever. If you don't then I will find out where you live and TP your house.~~~ 


	3. Hellooo, Nurse!

2003 - Year of the Wham (or, 'Trewlaney's Travels')  
  
::I hope you liked the last chapter! There was a lot of gazing into each other's eyes and stuff, but every romantic scene has that. What's so great about eyes? What about CHEEKS! This is why I urge you to join WACMIS (Writers against cheek mistreatment and ignorance society).::  
  
Chapter Three - Hello, Nurse!  
  
Professor Trewlaney walked down the street, arms crossed angrily. It wasn't fair. Douglas had been her one true love and had been evilly snatched away by the gods of fate. She sighed, remembering their meeting as if it where the days of Yore (Ah, the days of Yore, those were good days). Soon she came upon an enormous building with an enormous green sign that said 'Mall'. She decided to go in and look around, after all, she had just (conveniently, for the sake of my sad little fan fiction) overcome a crippling phobia, she might as well go all out.   
  
She was amazed at everything she saw. It was a huge place with glass skylights and tons of things to buy. She saw a lovely shop filled with brightly coloured scarves and sarongs and walked in, choosing one of vibrant crimson.  
  
"That will be $9.19," the young saleslady said, her palm open to receive the money.  
  
Professor Trewlaney looked confused and pulled out 9 sickles, placing them on the counter.  
  
The young woman picked up the coins, looking at them bewilderedly, "We take only British money, madam," she said plainly.  
  
"This is British money!" she insisted, pushing the money back towards her impatiently as she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the girl's head. She had had a bad enough day already without some twerp giving her a hard time...  
  
The woman grabbed the phone and at once her voice was broadcasted all over the mall: "Security to Scarves 'n' Things."  
  
"Nooo! I'll never let you take me! NOO!" she wailed, running out of the store and down the corridor past a display of mail-order home nose-waxing products.  
  
"Thaaaaat's right, ladies and gentlemen, no more tedious nose-hair tweezing! You just tilt your head like this...and fill your nose with the wax, and in 15 minutes you'll have a smooth, hairless nasal passage and a decorative nose mold to display for friends and family. All for less than thirty pounds..."  
  
She slid around a corner and saw a hair-styling studio and an unmistakable head of greasy black hair...it must be...  
  
"Snapey!!!" she yelled, rushing over and whirling the chair around, "Oh Snapey, it's you!"  
  
Snape's mouth fell open, (it actually was Snape, and not some greasy-haired beaver or anything) and he gave her a look of utmost loathing, "Oh no...not you..."  
  
"Of course it's me!" she squealed excitedly, hugging him tight, "Oh Snapey, you have to help me! Oh, Severus! Oh, my beloved bosom friend!"  
  
"There she is!" she heard the saleslady yell from across the food court, "She's mad, I tell you! Stark raving mad!"  
  
Professor Trewlaney paled and pulled Snape out of his chair, the foil from his pink highlights crinkling musically. She held him in front of her and pointed her wand over his shoulder at the chubby security guards.   
  
"Don't shoot! Don't hurt my Snapey!"  
  
"Get off of me, you imbecile!" he yelled, pulling at her arm around his neck.  
  
"Protect me, Severus, they're going to take me awaaaay!"  
  
"Well it's about time!" he said angrily, trying to pull her off of him.  
  
"Hush, Sevvie, you have to protect me!" she ordered, shoving the red scarf in his mouth.   
  
"Gmmf! Mm-umm Skumm!" he mumbled through the scarf, and  
  
WHAM!  
  
he flipped her onto the ground, spitting the scarf on her face. She reached up and grabbed his robes, pulling at them as she felt a bee sting her arm, and she drifted off.  
  
...they're callin' again...  
  
*****  
  
Professor Trewlaney awoke, her head on something soft and rubbery. She opened her eyes, blinking and moaning. Her head really hurt.  
  
She was in a white, rectangular room with poufy padded walls and floors. A camera was perched in the corner.  
  
She sighed, leaning her bruised head against the wall and singing mournfully.  
  
"Noooobody knows, the truffles I've seen...Nooobody knows, my-"  
  
"Oh! The patient be waking!" a familiar voice said. It was the doctor from the ER. He walked into the room and grinned.  
  
"Githa-oorepitalocta" she managed to say, still dopey from the Frasier drugs, the same drugs she had been given for her broken nose.  
  
"Ahh, you is wondering why I am here? I decided to become a psychiatreest. You are not needing a degree no more, jost an accent and a beard!" he clapped his hands delightedly, and left her alone as she drifted back into sleep.  
  
*****  
  
Professor Trewlaney stared at the camera, fascinated by all the Muggle technology used these days. She had been in the poufy room for two days, and had slept most of the time. She wished she had her orb (I didn't use 'ball' this time, *cheer*) so she could see what was going on. More than that, she wished her beloved Muggle boyfriend was with her.  
  
She stood up. Her robes had been taken away and she was dressed in a white shirt and slacks. She looked at the poufy padded walls and leaned back against them. Bouncy.  
  
She grinned and ran towards the opposite wall, arms outstretched. She reached the wall and bounced back, toppling backwards until she hit the first wall again. She continued like this back and forth until the nurse came into her room to give her some pills and read her a Richard Scarry book.  
  
On the third day she found a piece of fossilized pigeon poo on her windowsill, probably left by the pigeons of Yore (Ahh, the pigeons of Yore, those were good pigeons). She used it to draw on the walls until two male nurses (Helloooo, nurse!) came in to bring her to therapy.  
  
They sat her down in the bearded doctor's office, in a white (and POUFY!) chair. The doctor turned around and greeted her, sitting down.   
  
"Comfortable?"  
  
"Yes," she answered, "What a lovely, poufy place."  
  
"I am glad you are liking it," he said, "Now, I know you vant to be good, don't you? You's not vanting to bite zee nurses?"  
  
"Hey!" she said angrily, "He tried to take advantage of me!"  
  
"He looked een your ear veez zee leetle medical flashlight," he said delicately.  
  
"He touched it, too!" Professor Trewlaney insisted, "In a very suggestive way!"  
  
The doctor shrugged and peered at her over the folder he was holding, "And you are saying you vant your vand?"   
  
She nodded.  
  
"Vy ees zees piece of vood so eemportant to you?"  
  
"How else would I Summon my Tinkie-Winkie doll?" she answered plainly.   
  
"You...you beleef you can do zings vees zis?"   
  
She nodded again.  
  
"I see..." he said, as he wrote on his notepad, "Vell, you may have zees...'vand' of yours, eef you behave," he told her, setting own her file, "Okays?"  
  
"Vat...er, what happens if I don't cooperate?" she asked curiously.  
  
He waved his hand and two nurses (Heloooo, nurse!) turned on a small television in the wall. They could see into a another poufy room where a struggling man in a straitjacket was being force-fed warm pureed dill pickles by a team of six nurses and a hot dog vendor who came in to ask for directions.  
  
"NO! NOOO! Anything but that!" she wailed, her hands over her face.  
  
"Take 'er avay," the doctor ordered, and the nurses brought her back to the poufy room, handing her the wand reluctantly.  
  
She grinned and waited until they left, then pointed it at the window but the bars of red light just rebounded at her.  
  
"Magic proof! Those fiends!" she exclaimed miserable, making her hands into fists and almost breaking her wand in half, "How dare they!"  
  
And suddenly, an idea struck her,   
  
(WHAM),  
  
she picked up the fossilized pigeon poo and started to sharpen it against the edge of her wand so it became very sharp. She sliced the bars with a quick slash of the fossil and squeezed out, levitating herself to the ground.   
  
She looked up and down the darkened street, humming happily to herself...  
  
~~~Author's note: Yay, chapter three! Because of suggestions from friends, family, and reviewers I have proofread this chapter a little more diligently. I can assure you there are no typos in this one. If you think you see a typo, it's probably just the doctor's accent. Stay tuned next week for chapter four. Oh yes, and by the way, REVIEW!! Please, please, please!! I'll be your best friend forever! 


	4. The Freedom of Pink

2003 - Year of the Wham (or, 'Trewlaney's Travels')  
  
:::This chapter is dedicated to my uncle who was diagnosed with leukemia last week:::  
  
Chapter Four - The Freedom of Pink  
  
It had started to rain and Professor Trewlaney shivered, standing under the eaves of a convenience store.   
  
"Support meh Yale fund?"  
  
Professor Trewlaney looked down, confused. Sitting on a piece of tarp on the sidewalk was a pale, skinny man with a round head that was completely bald except for a long mustache. He wore a silky black evening gown, winter boots, and a huge sombrero.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Yale! I wanna go to Yale. I'm going to be an animal gynecologist!"   
  
She wrinkled her nose, "I don't have any money. I just escaped from a muggle psy-cha...psy-chee...nuthouse," she finished, a little embarrassed.  
  
"Hey, me too, man!" he replied, holding out his hand to shake hers, "Hey man, we gotta stick out for each other, eh? We can't let 'Them' drag us over to 'Their' side."  
  
He gave her a knowing look and pointed to the large refrigerator box next to him, "You can share my box, sister."  
  
Professor Trewlaney shrugged and hopped into the box, hugging her knees up to her chest, "Comfy."   
  
He winked and pulled out a ukulele from under a tattered blanket and strummed a few chords.  
  
"Nooobody knows, the truffles I've seen..."  
  
Trewlaney's head perked up, "Hey, I love that song!" she exclaimed, joining in.   
  
After their singing the man smiled, revealing a couple of missing teeth, "What's your name, sweetie?"  
  
"Sybill."  
  
"I'm Chauncey, and I'm leaving here," he answered thoughtfully, spreading the tarp out on the concrete and laying down.  
  
"Really? Where are you going? Maybe I could go with you," Trewlaney said.  
  
"Yale, weren't you paying attention, man?" he barked angrily.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she replied.  
  
"I've almost got enough, too," he added, opening his hand to reveal about three pounds.  
  
*****  
  
The next morning, Trewlaney awoke after a passerby dropped a burning cigarette in her box. It had almost burnt a hole in her sleeve when Chauncey threw a handful of puddle-water on her.  
  
"Wake up, man, we gotta pack."  
  
She rose and groaned, stiff and sore from sleeping in a box all night. The street was now filled with people. She was so hungry, she conjured herself a few strips of bacon and ate them quietly, huge eyes surveying the Muggles with mild interest.  
  
"Hey, man, whatcha got?" Chauncey asked, folding his tarp and blanket and putting hem in the box, "Food? Awesome, where'd ya get it?"  
  
"Um...off the road," she said plainly.  
  
"Aw, man, that's the best kind!" he said excitedly, sitting down next to her in the box and grabbing a piece.   
  
After they had eater, Chauncey picked up the box and lifted it over his head awkwardly. Trewlaney followed, picking up random pieces of gum on the sidewalk and chewing them happily. Finally they came upon a lovely city park.   
  
Chauncey smiled with satisfaction. He set down the box on the concrete roller blade path that wound through the park. A polished wood sign nearby read "YALE PARK".   
  
"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, blinking away tears (awwww).   
  
"We walked all this way to go to some ridiculous muggle park?" she grunted disappointedly, not caring that she had said the word 'Muggle' aloud.   
  
"Hey, man, this is the only place free of the constrictions and stifling laws of this government, which is all part of the conspiracy to get rid of the colour pink."  
  
"The colour pink?" Trewlaney asked, a bewildered expression on her face.  
  
"Yeah, man. See, 'They' don't want the colour pink giving us all these radical ideas, see? It's like red, but it's pulling away from the redness to become it's own colour - working towards freedom in an unaccepting and cruel society," he nodded knowingly, his eyes serious.   
  
"You got all that from the colour pink?"  
  
"Hey, man, I sit on the street in a box all day, I have a lot of time to think about these things."  
  
"Oh, good point," she said, sitting down on a bench, "Well, what are you going to do here?"  
  
"Sybill, Sybill, Sybill," he muttered in a disappointed way, "Haven't you been listening to me at all?"  
  
He pulled out the pocket change he had showed her earlier, "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to buy a corn dog!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Chauncey frowned, slightly put out, "Well, I'm buying a snow cone, too."  
  
"This is ridiculous," Professor Trewlaney pouted.  
  
"Fine! Don't come then! I don't care! Don't come crying to me when you're craving a tapioca-filled corn dog with bean dip and a kumquat-flavoured snow cone! Just remember this - I shared my box with you."  
  
And with that he turned on his heel and stomped off toward a rotund and sunburned hot dog vendor who seemed to be missing an ear.  
  
Trewlaney sighed and watched as people passed her by without notice. She pulled Douglas' retainer out of her pocket and held it to her chest, lovingly.   
  
"Oh, Dougie, I wish you were here," she said sadly.  
  
She put the droolsome piece of metal back in her pocket just as a lady in a black dress and veil hobbled over to her, peering at her curiously.   
  
"You lost, dear?"  
  
She looked up, "Yeah, I guess. I don't know my way around...I haven't been outside in 42 years," she replied plainly.  
  
"None of us have, dear, none of us have," she said, in a way that made Trewlaney wonder is she'd actually heard what she said.   
  
"How about you come over to my flat and I'll make you some tea, dearie," she offered, taking her arm and pulling her up.  
  
Trewlaney nodded wearily and walked across the street with the woman to a large building and walked inside, just as Chauncey got hit with a Frisbee.  
  
WHAM  
  
~~~This is my FAVOURITE chapter in the whole fan fiction (which has seven chapters) so please, please PLEASE review it! Chauncey will love you for ever!!~~~ 


End file.
